Exit The Fall
by Emmers224
Summary: There is no promise in a world everyone wants to forget. There's no life when there's only death. There is only survival and perseverance when your only companion is your car.
1. Pologue: When Tomorrow Comes

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers nor the song 'When Tomorrow Comes' by Pillar. I only own the plot.

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Exit The Fall

By: LightThatBinds

--Prologue--

August 25, 2019

Chihuahuan Desert, New Mexico

The smooth purr of Bee's engine filled Sam's ears, lulling him into a contented stupor. Unseeing, he stared beyond the dust-streaked windows at the vast, empty landscaping flashing past at speeds incomprehensible to the gauges mounted on the dash. A fine plume of desert sand and dirt, kicked up by the Camaro's spinning tires, trailed in their wake. Sam, though normally acutely against attracting the attention of unwanted eyes, grinned giddily as Bee spun his tires jubilantly, catching a solid purchase upon the textured desert floor as he rocketed to even higher Earth defying speeds. He could only laugh with hapless abandon and rigidly clutch the seatbelt firmly secured around his waist and shoulders, when Bee's engine revved with a feisty growl, feeding off his amusement. With scarcely a warning, Bee's back brakes locked up and the steering wheel wrenched, of its own accord, careening them around, stirring up clouds of clotted dust as the honey yellow Camaro executed a sharp and erratic but controlled donut, eliciting a surprised, whooping holler from Sam.

A permanent grin plastered Sam's face, as his friend wheeled them around in a tight turn, playfully circling a sagebrush with all the mannerism of a cat stalking the unsuspecting. Affectionately, slapping the twitching steering column, he cast a swift analytical glance around they're surroundings, eyes scouring for anything suspicious or potentially threatening. Years of habit made a cautionary hand fall to the modified semi automatic, nestled against his hip. Sam knew they were an easy, open target, positioned as they were in the midst of the broad planes of the American high desert, whipping up mini dust storms that could be easily seen and tracked from miles away. He knew they were taking a huge risk, exposing them selves so voluntarily, but _goddamni__t _they'd been lingering in the shadows for far too long to be healthy. It had been a particularly draining year, and Bee and himself, in turn, had been living on the very cusp of existence far longer than he'd like to think. They (Bee, most especially) deserved this short round of freedom to celebrate, even if it would only ever be short lived. After all, this could be the last time they would ever have to traipse the sands of this wretched desert. If all the pieces fell into their designated places, they would be going home permanently.

Latching his hands onto the doorframe, Sam leaned his head out of the open window, leisurely inhaling deep sucking breaths of the dry, desert air as it tugged at his unruly hair and roared in his ears, sampling the vague taste of sage and cliffrose on his tongue, mingled with choking dust. The scent of crushed sage struck him with a moment of nostalgia, bringing back razor sharp memories of the overlook at twilight, with Bee and Mikaela, watching the sun dip beyond the craggy, Nevada horizon. Thickly swallowing past the lump of longing and _anxiety,_ that lodged itself in his throat at the haze of fond memories, he mentally shook himself free of their barbed edges, forcing them into the remotest reaches of his brain. That was then, this is now.

Another time.

Another life.

Sensing his distraction, Bee gently lurched on his axels, tipping Sam back into his seat.

"You okay Sam?" The yellow scout asked seriously, all traces of previous blithe behavior gone, melting at his charge's abrupt melancholy demeanor.

Sam grimaced, certain the Camaro caught the gesture since no one was as sharply in tuned (not that there was anyone else around to _be_ aware of him) to him as his guardian. Issuing a reluctant sigh, Sam settled a reassuring hand on Bee's dash before answering his inquiry.

"I'm fine Bee. It's nothing, really. Just thinking," he answered, his tone indicating his dismissal of the subject.

Undeterred, Bee hummed indulgently.

"Thinking is bad for your health, Sam," the Autobot jibed lightly.

Sam's consoling contact to the Camaro's interior panels swiftly morphed into a joshing jab. Bumblebee chirped indignantly, accelerating in mock surprise.

"Shut it you. It's not like your one to talk," Sam chuckled softly. "All you _ever_ do is think."

Bee's engine sputtered in serene amusement and he devilishly swerved a few times, playfully rocking Sam in his seat.

"I'm a robot. It's what I do," Bee retorted, deliberate hints of a smile lacing his disembodied voice."

Sam snorted appreciatively.

"Fair enough."

Comfortable silence lapsed for several of Sam's heartbeats before Bee spoke again.

"Whatever you were thinking obviously bothered you Sam," he prodded gently, allowing it to be known that Sam hadn't been successful in his attempt to uproot his focus.

Sam groused a murmuring agreement but didn't answer immediately, instead opting to shift deeper into Bee's warm, leather seat and fix an averted gaze to the endless stretch of horizon, expression evasive and distant. A leashed sigh emitted from Sam, after several fruitless seconds, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to divert his attention anywhere but at the Autobot he was confined within. Finally leveling a pensive gaze upon the steering wheel, he reverently smoothed the pad of his thumb across the Autobot insignia centered there, his expression delicate.

"I'm nervous Bee. How do we go back, after everything? Everything we've seen? Everything we've _done_?" he caved, voice strained and fissured mere inches beneath the surface.

It was a mark of how well Bee knew Sam that he didn't have to question what he meant. Decelerating to a more reasonable speed, Bee deliberated meticulously before replying.

"I wish I could of made it easier for you Sam; Taking you away from all that you once knew and held dear. Taking you from Mikaela," a low whine of sadness escaped Bee when Sam elicited the minutest of flinches at the mention of _her _name.

"I am sorry Sam. If I had known how much going back was going to hur—"

"It's not that Bee," Sam cut across him hurriedly, swiftly dashing Bee's unnecessary apologies and regrets before they could snowball.

"I don't regret deciding to go into hiding with you. It was necessary. The whole world was hungry for my blood. Somebody would have been killed eventually, had we not done something drastic," he paused, not adding that that 'somebody,' namely, would have been him. There was no need. They both knew it.

"It's just…I don't think I can bring myself to face Mik—_her_, after choosing to abandon her. I—I willing left her Bee. That sort of thing you don't forget too soon, even after so many years," Sam's voice held a quiet plea, a sort of undertone that begged to be heard and reasoned with, even if the person it was intended for was not in the proximity.

The seat restraints momentarily tightened gently around Sam's wiry frame in, what he imagined was Bee's way of offering him an understanding embrace. Almost immediately, as if he was still striving to be as subtle a possible, the seat restraints quickly and discreetly, snapped back to their respective lengths. Sam smiled lightly. Though the gesture had been simple and barely perceptible, it still warmed him to know that he at least still had Bumblebee to ease his strains.

"Sam, we left, not only to protect you but also to protect her; to ensure _everyone's_ safety in our absence. If she loves you, like I'm sure she does, then I know all is forgiven. And besides, were not the only ones who had to go underground. She went with Ratchet, remember?" the Camaro prompted sagely.

"Yeah, after the fact. You and me were half way through Kansas before she, the rest of the Autobots, Lennox and Eps, and their families finally spilt. It just felt…" Sam contemplated briefly, sifting for suitable words before alighting on one. "I don't know…_cowardly_, being the first to high-tail it out off there like bats out of hell."

Bumblebee hissed and clicked in agitation at his poor choice of words, and Sam felt a moment's twinge of guilt before the Autobot leapt to their defense.

"Optimus approved and _encouraged _our decisions. There was nothing cowardly about our actions, rash though they may seem," Bumblebee defended rationally, though his speedometer leapt from sixty-two to ninety-four in mere seconds.

Sam winced, placing a placating hand on the dash, the motion pacifying and yielding; waving a proverbial white flag.

"Okay, that was my bad. Stupid word choice," Sam amended lightly, feeling like a complete and utter ass.

Bee's engine revved noisily in what sounded suspiciously like a grating harrumph, before dropping to a more relaxed speed, the defensive tension draining out of him. Sam wasn't even certain anymore how he had discerned that Bee had bristled like a territorial cat at the implication, because the Camaro had done little besides hit the gas. Perhaps it was a tuition thing. Or maybe it was the fact that Bee's seats, normally comfortably contorted to the curves of his spine, had stiffened and hardened like a slab of iron. Or maybe he just knew Bee better than the palm of his hand? Whichever, it spoke volumes of their bond, of the amount of blood, tears, and energon shed between them.

Sighing gustily, Sam leaned his head back against the seat, staring blandly at the infinite stretch of single, toned desert playing out before them like an insufferable amount of movie credits. The silence that pursued Bee's grumble was fraught with all the awkwardness of a minor disagreement and Sam hated it. Mentally berating his insensitivity, he cast about for a way to broach the prior topic of discussion without seeming like a ninny, but Bee, sensing his internal flailings, took pity on him, and beat him to the punch.

"Four years ago, when we decided to go underground, I only had you in mind Sam. Taking you away from the building violence of your crumbling world was the only way I could think of to save you from an inevitable fate. I did not deem it 'cowardly,'" Bee's engine twittered disapprovingly. "By valuing your life far too much to want to spare you from a premature death, Sam."

"I know Bee. I know," Sam patted the bot's dash reassuringly. "It was just—hard leaving her like that. It felt low on my part. Not yours. I'm supposed to protect her. It's my duty as her--," he broke off, venting a frustrated puff of air, his right hand absently caressing the slightly tarnished, silver band encircling his left ring finger. Idly, he rotated it thoughtfully, the feel of worn, flesh warmed metal sliding smoothly against his skin, both calming and nostalgic. It was a shiftless gesture he'd picked up as of late, often belying the exposed thread of his thoughts whenever he fell into another of his apathetic silences, the likes of which Bumblebee was becoming increasingly familiar with.

"Hell, I don't even know what to call me and her any more. We moved past the stage of boyfriend and girlfriend a _long_ time ago. Were not exactly married. Not exactly engaged. Lovers is inadequate. Soul mates? Too corny and overused, though it's a close enough description. Sounds ridiculous though," Sam contemplated aloud, uncaring that his mental ramblings fell on attentive audio receptors. It wasn't uncommon of Sam to voice aloud the inner workings of his often, random and directionless thoughts; And even if Bumblebee never made his concerns known, he took it all in stride and never questioned the spontaneousness and absurdities Sam's muddled mind spewed could out at times, though he couldn't help pondering every now and then if his charges heedless mind purging was a side affect of his contact with the Allspark.

"Sparkmates," Bee intoned, gently intercepting Sam from his entangled thoughts.

Sam blinked, dissuaded. Foggily, he retraced his mental steps until he regrasped the retreating tail of his precarious muse.

"Sparkmates? But isn't that a Cybertronian thing? I mean were not technically bonded to each other. If she chose to, she could easily love someone else. Not that I'd blame her if she did. The life that I have to offer her isn't an easy one," Sam mulled soberly, extracting the silver ring from his finger to stare at it sadly.

Bee was quiet for a few sparse seconds as his tires hit an unforeseen rut in the desert sand and his chassis lurched on his axels, momentarily swaying his attention. Steadying his body, Bee switched his focus back to Sam, who had replaced the silver band upon its designated finger.

"Sam, you do not have to be Cybertronian to have a sparkbond. Nor do you require a spark," Bee patiently explained, sensing Sam's confusion.

Sam raked a hand through his hair, listening intently, his brow arched skeptically. Uncertainty tugged at the corner of his lips, pulling the corners into a ponderous frown.

"When two beings love each other deeply, it attunes you to one another, connecting you whether your even aware of it or not. That sort of love and connection isn't easily forgotten, no matter how great the distance nor lengthy the time spent apart," Bumblebee's voice was soft with unbridled reverence and prudence. "_That_ is the sort of bond you and Mikaela share. And that is also why I am positive she will not require you to explain yourself. She knew before even you, Sam, " an inflection entered Bee's voice, and Sam knew the bot was smiling fondly. "A sparkbond."

Sam was hushed and still as he mulled over Bee's explanation, accepting it unquestioningly as he understood that the description fit. Sparkmates. It was very—suitable, now that Bee had elaborated further. It no longer sounded quite so…alien and…out there.

Finally, face splitting into a slow, appreciative grin, Sam reclined in Bee's seat, hand petting the shifting steering wheel.

"When did you get so wise Bee?" Sam murmured. "Sometimes I think you know my life better than I do. No…scratch that. You _do_ know my life better than I do."

Bee hummed good-naturedly, his engine revving in what could only be described as an automated chortle.

"You live a few thousand years, and your suddenly a wealth of wisdom," Bee said with mock thoughtfulness, twisting the wheel beneath Sam's hand, mischievously jerking his alt form from side to side a few times, before settling back into his unhurried, easy pace. Sam chuckled softly, amusedly tipping his head to rest it against Bee's door frame, a yawn escaping before he could snatch it back. Scrubbing his face, (grimacing internally when his calloused palm abraded against the three days worth of stubble flourishing on his chin) he sank lower into Bee's seat suddenly unexplainably weary. Bee reformed his cushions to accommodate Sam's weight shift, leather seats morphing comfortably to his passenger's lanky form. Sam uttered a sigh of contentment, nuzzling his cheek against the tooled, not-leather of the Camaro's door panel. Bee obligingly softened the hardness of Sam's chosen 'pillow,' thoughtfully cushioning his jutting cheekbone so it was no longer digging uncomfortably (on Sam's part) into the doorframe.

The sun was beginning to set in the sky, casting golden hues and shimmering rays dancing across Bumblebee's cheerfully scuffed and grime streak, sunshine yellow paint. The rugged desert stretched as far as the eye (or optic) could see. Bee knew it would only be a matter of hours before they left the desert, to be cliché', in their dust. With his swift, tireless, ground consuming, pace they would surely reach the cusp of the desert by dawn's first light. That is, if his calculations were correct (which he was quite certain they were) and they encountered the minimum amount of trouble, traipsing across this great plane, then Sam would awake to a Texan sunrise.

Crossing the Texas border, which could hardly be considered a milestone in this perilous journey they were embarking on, was definitely more spark warming, and motivational than the sinking sun playing across the slivers of his paint that still managed to gleam, despite its lack luster condition. They were one leg closer to the Autobots and dwindling ranks of the N.E.S.T. members gathered on the eastern coast. Within days they would be back within the sanctuary of his comrades and within breathing distance (or chucking distance he should say) of a medic for both himself and Sam. And he had no doubts that Ratchet would be leaping upon the both of them on their arrival. They weren't exactly in the pristine condition they had been in four years ago. Survival certainly hadn't been kind to the either of them.

Not that Bee was in dire need of repairs. His armor was dinged up and scratched in places and he certainly had a few gears loose in his joints and a couple severed circuits but he wasn't critical. His self-repair systems could take care of most of his damages; so long as he wasn't missing a limb or had a severed energon leak he could pretty much survive as is, uncomfortable or not. Sam on the other hand was an entirely different matter. Sam was nowhere near as fixable as himself.

Which brought him back to the other relief being back within the Autobot ranks promised; More pairs of optics, eyes, and hypersensitive sensors present, besides his own, to keep an attentive watch on Sam. The boy had a knack for trouble that only a few could rival. It was both alarming and (if you stood far enough back and were _not_ currently his friend and guardian), mildly amusing (way, way, _way _back). Bee would never trade his impertinent role as Sam's guardian for the world. He cherished his friendship with Sam far beyond his own spark. Sam was everything to him. The sun, the moon, the sky and everything in between. His world. However, Bee did admit that fulfilling his guardianship was an emotionally arduous position. Particularly when his precious charge was wounded or ill and he was helpless to drive the pain away or soothe his fevered mind. Not being the only sentient being to care for Sam would be a profound relief.

"…Bee?" Sam spoke up groggily, his voice nearly inaudible over Bee's purring engine. Mildly surprised, the Camaro revved softly. His sharp sensors, always partially honed in on Sam's presence, hadn't even alerted him to the boy's slight, conscious stirrings. Making a note to send a memo to his self-repair nodes to analyze the minor glitch, he chirruped an inquisitive response.

"Do you think everything will be alright? Going back?" Sam asked fuzzily, hand unconsciously curling around Bee's steering wheel.

Bee clicked quietly, deliberating. It was amazing. After twelve years, Sam continued to take him by surprise. This query, to borrow the human saying, had come out of left field.

"I think…that we will find out when we get there, Sam,"

"Hmmm. I'm still nervous."

"Don't be. What ever awaits us, we'll face it together," Bee assured, his lulling voice soothing and gentle.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Bee felt rather than saw Sam's faint smile, when the warm face mashed up against his interior, twitched up minutely. Eliciting a jaw-cracking yawn, Sam arched his back as he stretched before slumping back into Bumblebee's obligingly lowered seat. Sensing Sam's sluggish descent from reality, Bee quietly flipped on his radio, swiftly sifting though his stored reams of music before alighting on one he deemed, would certainly persuade Sam to sleep.

'_When the sun goes down __  
__The future's looking bright __  
__When all is said and done __  
__And tomorrow has begun __  
__Remember today is now yesterday…'_

Sam murmured a vague sound of appreciation, before finally freeing himself from the retracting claws of wakefulness and nodding off, lulled by the soft bass of voice of the long forgotten musician and Bumblebee's smooth, considerate driving.

'…_Can we find a way find a way to let it go __  
__When tomorrow comes __  
__Today will be a brand new day __  
__Can we let it go?'_

The dying sun cast one more stunning array of dazzling reds, golds, and pastel oranges before finally drifting beneath the rugged horizon. Only a feathery glow, glimmered dully in the distance, night overtaking day. Faint, silver pinpricks twinkled within the navy blue folds of the night sky, off setting the gleaming, half Cheshire cat grin beaming in the midst of it.

Settling low on his axels, Bee prepared to spend a restless night striving to reach their destination, undeterred. Checking to make sure the temperature of his cab was at a comfortable degree, he cracked a back window, letting the tepid night air circulate within his confines. The song warbled, slightly distorted as the wind snatched at it, ripping it into the desert wind. Bee didn't switch it off, however. The song was calming and neutral, even if a portion of the lyrics were only more or less befitting to their situation. It awakened long stored memories of easier, happier times within him. Of a Sam who was whole and content and completely unshattered. A more carefree and chipper version of himself. And a clean, untainted Earth.

Bee shuddered despite himself, as the lyrics, warped by the wind and filtering into his slipstream, took on the eerie tone of beleaguered ghosts of the past returning to beseech him. Unnerved and uncaring that he was being blatantly ridiculous, he hastily flipped it off, repressing the song and the memories that diligently pursued, but not before the last dying note reverberated from his speakers.

'…_Memories I must erase __  
__Here's one more chance for me __  
__To throw them all away __  
__Today's a brand new start __  
__We made this way too hard __  
__We both need something like __  
__Amnesia of the heart…'_

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Ah, *ahem* okay. My first Transformers fic. How bout that. I never thought I'd finally get this published. It took me _weeks_ to string together! But anyway, now that its here, I hope you all enjoy and review!

Sorry if it kinda rambles and doesn't make complete sense. Bear in mind this is the prologue and is designed for you to question it. I will be happy to give answers so long as it doesn't expose the plot.

Also this is a NON- slash fic. You can squint all you want but the relationship between Sam and Bee will only ever be that of friendship in said fic. Thank you.

With that out of the way, please be kind and review. I want honest opinions. I'm rather rusty so be gentle. Ehheh. ;)


	2. Chapter 1: Part 1: The Price of Survival

AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE READ! Okay so this is basically just a useless chapter and is part one of two. Its been awhile since I've updated (obviously) and I apologize for that (please don't kill me!) but I've been so caught up in my first year of college and work I just haven't had nearly as much time as I'd like. It's not being neglected, I can assure you, just not devoted to entirely. Anyway...this was originally a whole chapter but I slashed it in two because the flashback (which is now part 2) was just taking _way_ to long and I didn't want to have to wait till next year to update so i promptly divided it. I understand that this is pretty much a pointless chapter and you may wonder why even bother but I figured an _update_ is better than _no update_ so please be patient with me. Once part 2 is posted, all the new questions you just developed for this one, will all be revealed. Trust me.

There is some use of language in this chapter so those with sensitive ears...er..eyes?...be warned.

And without further ado...I present to you...Part 1!

I own only the plot. Damn.

Chapter One: Part 1

The Price of Survival

August 3, 2018

Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

--Two years prior--

Ice-cold mountain water sluiced and gurgled around the tanned, trembling form anchored determinedly in its midst, fiercely uttering a slew of curses as he grudgingly submerged himself in the skin biting water. Vicious, bone jolting shudders emanated from his body as he quaked and shivered, immersed up to his waist in the mind bogglingly, _freezing_ water. Struggling to gain the upper hand over his sluggish, and some what disobedient limbs, Sam made to hasten his movements as he forced himself to envision Bee's heated interior and warm, toasty leather sea--and oh God this was torture!

"Your cruel!" he shouted out into the still, summer air to the being he knew was supervising his situation with the utmost of amusement. His words however, didn't come out sounding quite as affronted and displeased as he intended it to. The trembling, squeaky pitch in his voice off set the accusation by a million miles.

"If forcing you to bathe in an effort to keep you healthy and free of potential bacteria that could leave you ill and vulnerable…then yes, I am very cruel," Bee's voice sniggered somewhere beyond Sam's line of sight.

"Bullshit! This is all about-t-t your interior!" Sam shrieked thinly, voice wavering somewhere between the range of a two year old first discovering its vocals to that of a baseball player who'd landed the misfortune of catching a fast ball straight in the manhood.

"The dirt you could track can get in…" Bee's voice held a prominent faux shudder of horror. "Weird places Sam. _Weird_ places."

Sam muttered a foul remark about where the Autobot could stick his interior (scowling venomously when Bumblebee chortled in response) before dipping his already exceptionally pink hands into the creeping current, cringing as the icy water seared his already agitated skin. Cringing convulsively, he scooped the clear water in his cupped hands and splashed it onto his sun warmed chest and shoulders. He repeated the motion several times (eliciting tiny _eeps _of shock with each new wave) until his dust and sweat-coated skin was streaming rivulets of muddy water. His chilled body now positively prickled with goose bumps and his teeth chattered and clacked unstoppably, in danger of chomping down onto his tongue. It probably wouldn't have been a bad thing, he decided as his tongue wagged of its own accord, spitting out curses, protests, and vague suggestions of Bumblebee's quickly approaching, imminent demise.

"This-s is-s-s all your fault!" Sam snarled irately, scrubbing muddy droplets from his fast drying skin with a flustered growl.

"_What?_" a squawk of indignation followed by the shriek of misaligned gears, grinding against each other emanated from behind a thick stand of trees a few yards up the slope from where Sam was standing, huddled in the river.

"Yeah, you heard me," he spat rambunctiously, tenderly washing an accumulation of dirt out of a deep abrasion adorning his ribs. Blood stained water trickled down his side, mingling with the current swirling around his waist.

"How is it _my_ fault? You're the one who jumped off that roof!" Bee retorted incredulously, peering creakily around the foliage, the disrupted gears in his shoulder trilling a moan of protest. Blue optics leveled Sam with a crystalline stare, faceplates shifting into a disbelieving frown.

Sam snorted contemptuously; trembling fingers gingerly working at another scrape situated on the ridge of his collarbone.

"Yeah, well you were supposed t-to catch me _before_ I hit the dirt. Not after," Sam railed obstinately, flicking a pointed glower in Bee's direction.

"Your ridiculous! You didn't even tell me you were going to perform that fool stunt until you were airborne! I may be a Transformer but, _Primus, _I can't split into two beings!" Bee shot back, defending himself rationally. The battered yellow Autobot lurched to his feet, stepping free of his shaded lounge.

Undeterred, Sam stared him down, raw hands idly running up and down his bruised forearms as the heckled Camaro stalked towards him.

"I was improvising. Look it up," Sam informed smugly, lower jaw jutting in stubborn determination.

Bumblebee stopped at the shoreline, long fingers twitching ominously, as if he was seriously considering wrapping those long metal digits around Sam's slim form. Sam never bat an eye, even as Bee's looming shape blotted out the blistering sun and cast him in a hulking shadow. Hunched and shivering, Sam tried to look as dignified as anyone who was half naked and coated in goose pimples could muster.

Bee was unimpressed. Perching black, metal hands on his hips, he peered imperiously down at Sam, towering in a way that reminded him off his father trying his damnest to strike fear in the heart of his slightly way ward son. Needless to say it hadn't been much of a success then and it certainly wasn't succeeding now. Sixteen feet of giant, alien robot with more than enough firepower to wipe out a reasonably sized town all in one blast didn't induce in Sam an ounce of fear. Call it cocky, but Sam knew Bee. The Autobot may be currently peeved but he knew he would never intentionally harm Sam in any way. However, that did not mean he was above some well-deserved and perhaps well-intended revenge.

"Improvising?" Bumblebee repeated slowly, processor whirring thoughtfully.

Sam nodded sturdily, undaunted and completely unaware of the idea meticulously formulating within Bee's processor. The only indication Sam had, that something was not quite right, was the playful flash of a gleaming blue in Bee's optics mere seconds before the Autobot crouched, tiger like and sprang, muttering a chaffing _"Improvise this!" _before gracefully catapulting himself smack dab in the middle of the current. Sam hadn't even totally processed the motion until the Autobot landed heavily (which he later realized was intentional since Bumblebee was always light on his feet, despite his bulk), quaking the riverbed beneath his bare toes. Sam had time enough to register a great spray of glacial water and utter an astonished squeak, before a gargantuan wave of epic proportions was upon him, greedily swallowing him up in its chaos.

Bitter, frosty water flooded his ears, nose, and mouth, searing the tender flesh within those crannies and choking him. Helpless to stop his way ward spiral, he swirled with the wild current, tumbling head over heels in a disorienting tangle. The vague thought that he was caught up in the world's most largest and abusive washer ever, loosely trickled through his mind as he was bounced none too gently against the sandy river bed. His elbows and knees, flailing as they were, occasionally clipped the unforgiving surfaces of the smooth, slippery stones dotting the floor, prompting, what he knew would be bruises later. All in all, it was not a pleasant experience and he was beginning to soberly wonder, if Bee was just going to allow him to get swept away in a snarl of limbs. Dimly, his mind was beginning to acknowledge that his lungs were screaming abuses at him, blatantly informing him that he needed water-free oxygen _now _or suffer the consequences. And then just as lungs felt fit to bursting, a large metal, hand blessedly plucked him from his watery torment and cradled his waterlogged body in those large, wonderfully warm hands.

Coughing, sputtering wretchedly, completely disoriented, skin burning, Sam gasped limply in Bee's cupped hands, curling gratefully around those warm fingers. Struggling to reorient himself, he weakly attempted to arrange his facial features into the murderous scowl he knew he ought to wear and failed miserably, managing only a pained grimace. Water streamed from his skin, plastering his sopping hair to his forehead in stringy tendrils and clinging his waterlogged boxer shorts to his thighs. Ribs heaving distractingly, it took Sam several calming breaths to realize that the warm metal beneath his skin was vibrating slightly. After further investigation (translating to he rolled over onto his back and shot Bee a cursory glance) he discovered that it was because the black and yellow bot was shaking with barely suppressed mirth.

Chagrinned, he casually tossed the Camaro a disgusted and an un-amused look before pushing himself into a sitting position. Tilting his head, he forcefully shook water from his clogged ears, maintaining his death glare. If he could of upped the volume any further, he was quite certain Bee would be quelling in fear rather than overlooking it amusedly.

"That," he roughly gave his head a shake, flinging drops of water into Bee's face, spattering his faceplates and optics. "Was sooo not necessary."

Bumblebee chuckled heartily, armor clacking with glee as he doubled over (nearly dropping Sam in the process), his vocalizer cheerfully spewing out animated clicks and jangles and strings of recorded laughter.

"Yeah, yeah screw you," Sam ground out sourly, idly leveling a heated glare at a merrily spinning tire, happily whizzing away on Bee's shoulder. Bumblebee's laughter intensified, nearly rattling Sam right out of his palms and back into the frigid water below. Sam had no doubts that if he hadn't currently been situated in Bee's precarious grasp, that the Autobot would be rolling jubilantly on the shore.

Gripping a thumb for security (he really had no strong inclination to be sent, plunging back into the freezing depths of Hell again, clean or not), he settled for waiting out the bot's untamable peals of laughter. Sighing with disgruntlement he waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"You done yet?" he asked impatiently, streams of water still icily trickling down the nape of his neck.

Bee carefully detached a hand from the cradle he had been maintaining for Sam and waved it in a placating gesture. Slowly, blessedly, Bee's chortles began to subside until finally he fell silent, surveying his charge through beaming optics. Sam frowned dryly in return.

"Heh heh, Sam… you missed a spot," he chuckled brightly, indicating a smear of mud on Sam's inner arm.

Sam's lips twitched minutely, betraying his good humor for the barest of seconds before his flat irritation replaced it. Bumblebee wasn't fooled however. He knew Sam enough to recognize the affable twinkle sparkling just beneath that cranky facade. That and the telltale crinkle furrowing the corners of his eyes was a dead give away.

"Missed a spot eh? Sure about that?" Sam arched his brow roguishly, suspending the offending arm over Bumblebee's moderately clean yellow armor. Bee clicked and whirred, engine whining in mock horror.

"You wouldn't."

"After the heaping amounts of abuse I just suffered at your hand? I'm past the point of consideration, buddy," Sam assured, a reluctant grin tweaking his lips.

"I'll drop you," Bee threatened, optics flaring in cheerful entertainment.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sam shot back loftily, his grin fiendishly stitched.

Bee sputtered in indignation, his misaligned gear issuing an ear splitting shriek to match. Optics widening in owlish bemusement, the yellow Camaro stared, nonplussed at his chuckling companion. Tilting his head curiously, he desperately racked his memory core for an instant in which Sam may have slipped through his careless grasp, and came up empty.

"I have never dropped you Sam," the bot confirmed seriously, regarding Sam with quizzical optics.

"Oh, I know Bee. It's a joke. A joke. Nothing more," Sam smiled warmly, patting his wrist. "And besides, paybacks a bitch," he laughed.

Bumblebee's processor whirred in sober understanding as Sam fixed him with a smug smirk, hazel eyes alight with that playful human humor that Bumblebee never quite seemed to get.

"Touché," Bee countered, faceplates lifting in grinning defeat.

Sam smiled with satisfaction, running a hand through his damp hair. Despite the lingering burn the chilly water left upon his skin, he felt refreshed and less…scruffy. Of course, he still needed a shave but that would come later.

"Okay… Can you put me down now? I wanna change into my dry clothes."

Bee obligingly deposited Sam on the grassy shore and followed suit, stepping carefully out of the now muddy, ankle deep (to Bee anyway) river. Water gushed and drained uncomfortably from beneath his armor plating and rushed between delicate circuitry and cables. Bumblebee shuddered noisily. It was such an _unpleasant_ sensation to feel water coursing carelessly over such sensuous wires. Sam laughed.

"Serves you right big guy."

Bee blew a passable imitation of a raspberry at him, lifting a large foot to give it a hearty shake, dislodging any remaining pockets of water trapped beneath his plating. Sam yelped and danced away as several flecks splattered against his warming skin. Bumblebee chuckled and repeated the process with his other leg, smirking in amusement as Sam scurried away before he could rain on him further. In a sudden surge of childishness, Sam stuck his tongue out at Bee before ducking around the stand of trees Bumblebee had previously vacated.

"Don't look!" he called out impulsively, bending to retrieve the pile of folded clothes, carefully set at the base of a tree.

He heard a harsh huff of exasperation from somewhere behind him as Bee shunted out a noisy sigh through his vents.

"Sam I already know what _you_ look like. Human nudity doesn't perturb me. Why should it matter?"

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that Bee," Sam flushed, checking to make sure he had ample amounts of foliage before peeling off his soggy boxers and trading them for a dry pair. "And it matters to humans because to be naked is to have all our vulnerabilities and flaws laid bare. Humans generally don't _like _to be exposed in such a compromising way for all the world to see…Unless you're a nudist…or a stripper." He chuckled at the last part.

"And besides Bee, we have this conversation every time I ask for privacy and every time it ends with me pointing out that _you_ wouldn't feel exactly at ease, cavorting about without your armor, now would you?"

"Point taken," the Camaro agreed and Sam heard an unmistakable clank as the Autobot undoubtedly plucked, insecurely at his honey, yellow plating.

Smiling with a fervent fondness he was glad Bee couldn't see, he snatched the dangling, sliver chain of his tracking device from a tree branch and swung it around his neck, relishing the peculiar, alien warmth off the dog tag resting against his sternum. Next he donned a pair of torn and faded, nondescript pair of jeans that he cinched to his waist with a worn, leather belt. And finally, an equally rag-tag but surprisingly intact t-shirt that had probably been black at some point but had been sun bleached to an earthen brown. Tightening the laces on his scuffed sneakers, he straightened, smoothing a few dried blades of grass from his shirt; he edged out from behind the trees and was met with the sight of Bee curled up on a grassy knoll several yards from the river's flow. Sam started slightly. He didn't even recall hearing the bot make a sound other than to pick at his armor. It was almost predatory how silently Bee could move.

"Alright. Lets see that shoulder," he urged, clapping his hands together when the Camaro merely flicked him a cool glance before resuming his cloud gazing. Sam sighed. So it was going to be like that, huh?

"I'm serious Bee. Lets see it," he demanded, sternly propping his hands on his hips. Bumblebee didn't budge, Sam's adamant appeal not powerful enough to sway. Obviously repairs, even minors ones, were as much a favorite of Bee's as icy river baths were to Sam.

"Come on, Bee," he pleaded, meandering his way to the prone bot's frame and nudging Bee's armor with the toe of his sneaker. He stressed the tone of his voice, discreetly tweaking it in a way Bee wouldn't be able to ignore. With a disgruntled rumble, Bumblebee propped himself up on his elbows, allowing Sam access to the injury. The unallied gear creaked a protest but Bee held still as Sam placed a hand over the plating that protected the intricate workings of the gears, pistons and hydraulic lines of his shoulder joint, silently asking for access. With a pop, hiss, Bumblebee released the catch of the armor plate with out hesitation, compliantly sliding the heavy metal into Sam's awaiting hands. Sam grunted under the weight, arms buckling shakily before he carefully maneuvered the piece of plating to the ground, his back straining under the stress. Stepping closer, he inspected the damage critically. He released an appreciative whistle.

"That drone really did a number on your shoulder, didn't it?" he commented rhetorically, fingers cautiously appraising the gear. Bee winced fractionally as a finger brushed an exceptionally deep gouge in the misaligned gear. He was careful not to move too suddenly, his sensors acutely aware of Sam's exact position beneath his shoulder and of his proximity within his mechanics. Chirping an affirmative, Bumblebee forced himself to be statue still as Sam felt around the injury, gently groping for further damage.

"The gear doesn't look too badly mangled. Scratched all to hell though. Should heal, right? All the cogs are still intact. That's good…" Sam mused aloud, issuing a play-by-play assessment, more for his benefit than Bee's. That's what Bumblebee's damage assessment servos were for. He already knew the extent to his injuries.

"Doesn't look like a hard fix. Just have to knock it back in to alignment I suppose. I'm gonna need a wrench for that and maybe a set of pliers…"

At his words, a hatch opened with a snick, revealing a copiously spaced compartment beneath the rear bumper of Bumblebee's back. The hidden alcove was what would have been his trunk space had he been in alt-form. Sam automatically reached for the department, ducking under his flattened door wings, to access the steel toolbox hidden within. Locating it, he popped the lid and rummaged through its contents until he alighted upon the necessary instruments.

Withdrawing his shoulders from Bee's 'trunk' he returned to his shoulder, pliers and wrench clasped in his hands. Placing a hand upon the dinner plate sized gear, Sam shunted a steadying breath between his teeth, wrench raised in preparation.

"Ready, Bee?"

"Ready as ever," the Autobot muttered, locking elbows and shoulders and nulling pain receptors so he wouldn't be tempted to move.

Sam brought the flat side of the wrench sharply down upon the awry gear, shifting it microscopically. The resounding clang deafened him, but he persisted obstinately. Bumblebee resisted the urge to flinch as the soft metal of the wrench finally yielded results to the stalwart material of his gear, minutely shoving it back into place. The ensuing squeal of altering metal shrilly culminating, prompted even Bee to temporarily offline his audio receptors. Sam dropped the wrench and clutched his ears, swearing zealously.

"Ow," Sam winced, rubbing his ears in an attempt to assuage the ringing trapped within his skull.

Onlining his audio receptors once again, Bumblebee tentatively tested his shoulder, rolling and lifting it experimentally. The gear felt loose and a little reluctant within its realignment of the other gear but it would have to do. The stiffness, he figured, would mellow out with use and better awareness of the cog placement. And as for the hindering scars marring the gear's surfaces, his self-repair systems would heal those in a matter of days, so long as the alignment didn't slip.

"Thanks Sam," he hummed, keeping still long enough to allow Sam to replace the tools within his trunk space and reattach his armor. Sam grumbled, and rubbed at the back of his neck, watching uncertainly as the Autobot rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously.

"You sure I don't need the pliers?"

"It's fine Sam. Don't worry about it," Bee dismissed, offering a hand for Sam to step into.

"But I _do_ worry about it. If Ratchet or Mikaela were here, they'd have my head for doing such a shoddy job. You know I'm nowhere near the mechanic they a—."

"Sam, stop. I have faith in you. You've been doing my repairs for two years now. I'm pretty sure your equipped enough to handle the minor things. You don't see me complaining do you?"

"Yeah, well that's only because I'm the only one around to do it. Beggars cant be choosers," Sam groused, obligingly lowering himself to Bee's palm.

"Trust me. I'd take your skills over Ratchet's death threats and wrench chucking any day," Bee jested lightly, quietly urging a smile to smooth away Sam's concerned furrows. Sam didn't rise to the bait, and scowled heavily as Bumblebee lifted him to his chest, his shoulder rising without a hitch.

"You wouldn't if your legs got blasted off again," Sam deadpanned, clambering over jutting plates to settle himself against the Camaro bumper of Bee's chest. Automatically, his fingers curled intrepidly around the frame, not squeezing or gripping, just feeling. Visions of Bumblebee, mangled and legless flashed through his mind on high speed as he remembered the despairing sensation of feeling so helpless…so…so _lost_. He could only imagine how he would feel if something critical were to happen to the mech that, limited though his skills were, was utterly beyond his aptitude. What could he do? For safety reasons, no one knew their current location besides the Prime himself and even that small contact was limited. They were alone in every sense of the word.

"Perhaps. But that would never happen. I wouldn't allow myself to be placed in a compromising position like that. Who would take care of you?" Bumblebee rumbled gently, stroking a long finger down the length of his spine. Sam ardently leaned into the touch, humming with delectation.

"No one," Sam mumbled, Bee's deft fingers kneading at the knot of tension erected within his shoulders. Sam sighed, eyes half shuttered in delight despite his bucking, internal protests that said Bumblebee was trying to divert his attention.

And succeeding.

"Mmmm, I hate when you do this," Sam purred languidly, arching his spine and lifting his shoulders so Bee could better access the muscles beneath his shoulder blades,

The Autobot chuckled and rubbed insistently, digits digging deeper into soft muscle.

"Only because I use it to distract you from yourself."

"I resent that. Still doesn't change how I feel though."

"I know."

An agreeable silence pursued as Sam's stiff muscles became more and more lax under Bee's knowing touch. He was soon rendered slumped over his lap, examining the scarred and pitted surfaces of his callused hands, his breathing deep and even as he fell into a quiet, unthinking and uncaring, nullified state. Bumblebee, optics still focused upon the darkening cloud formations above, worked diligently and expertly, easing the stress from Sam's taxed body. Sam vented a contented sigh, his body as yieldable and unresisting as putty in the adept hands of an artist. Muscles slackened at Bee's gentle commands and he found himself leaning further, seeking more release. Bumblebee idly ran his fingers over Sam's rib cage, feeling each individual rib within the hollow bone cage, memory files reminding him which ones to touch with considerate care. Reminding him of the ones, that had once, not so long ago, been crushed and splintered by an unexpected and uncalculated force…

Ticklish, Sam squirmed away, his awareness snapping back into focus. Bumblebee reluctantly dropped his hand from Sam's side but not before his index finger reverently brushed the two ribs he knew to be made entirely of metal. The only two out the four of Sam's bones that had been so far beyond comfortable repair, that Ratchet had deemed it safer to replace rather than reconstruct from bone splinters and nonsensical fragments. The results had been as much of a relief as it had been a phenomenon. Sam's body had taken to the malleable metal better than they had anticipated and within mere days, had been breathing on his own; metal ribs seamlessly lifting and rising with each breath taken and received.

"Bee?" Sam twisted to look at him, brow arched inquisitively.

Bumblebee hazarded a fervent glance at him but Sam's expression was only curious. The warm hands curled around his bumper, tightened reflexively.

"Sam."

The two starred at each other for several beats, something nearly invisible but entirely real and tangible, passed fleetingly between mech and man. A shared memory, Shared pain. It would have been an entirely somber and reflective moment had the quiet grumbling of an empty stomach not broken over them. Abashed, Sam clapped a muffling hand over his slim waist sliding an accusing glance at his belly, as if just realized he had one.

"Heh, dinner time I guess," he said shrugging sheepishly before scooting across Bumblebee's Camaro bumper and sliding to the ground. Rubbing absently at his navel, he treaded to the sparse stand of trees, searching for the tattered army knapsack hidden amidst the branches. Spotting it, he snagged a branch and swung up, disentangling it from its leafy prison before dropping back to the ground. Aluminum clanked dully within the nylon bag as he shook it with a lively eagerness. Bumblebee pushed himself up to watch as Sam seated himself beside the mech, pulling open the knapsack with gusto.

"Remember to ration," Bee advised as a battered but intact can of vegetable soup and a partially crushed box of saltine crackers tumbled into Sam's lap.

Sam nodded and lifted the flap of the bag, surveying the contents critically. Shaking his head in disappointment, he wordlessly handed the can to Bee for opening.

"After all that trouble we went through to attain this, I only managed to gather two weeks worth of food. Now were gonna have to make another trip," Sam fretted, ripping open a packet of saltines and popping two in his mouth.

"Not your fault," Bee reasoned, delicately pinching the can between his index finger and thumb. With a marginal shifting of gears and sliding plates, a gleaming dagger like protrusion emerged from the underside of the middle digit. Deftly, he inserted it into the can, slicing easily through the top until the thin metal popped away, revealing the soggy vegetables within. Grimacing, Bee handed it back, mindful not to spill any of it on his fingers. Human food never ceased to disgust him.

Avoiding the jagged edges, Sam ravenously slurped it down, ignoring the rubbery way the vegetables slid down his throat and the slimy juices that coated his tongue. He was hungry and he couldn't afford to be picky. Since The Fall he had eaten his fair share of equally repulsive foods. Though it had turned his stomach with a sickening clarity to consume half the things he did (and would most likely purge from his system of later, no matter how hard he worked to keep it down) he persevered. Survival wasn't about the leisure of happy and simple choices anymore. It was all about grit and mastering the art of fear.

"Tsh, yeah I guess. It is kinda hard to concentrate on the task at hand when being shot at," Sam snorted, taking a long swig from the canteen fastened to the knapsack.

Bumblebee hummed an agreement.

"I hadn't anticipated resistance _and_ a drone all in the same town. Otherwise I would never have taken us there," the scout murmured, picking ruefully at a few fresh, sizeable dings peppering his armor. Those humans had managed to squeeze in a few lucky potshots at him while he was thoroughly distracted with the drone. Of course it was better they loose shots at his incompliant metal hide, than Sam's soft, easily punctured flesh.

"Its okay Bee. You didn't know." Sam patted the Autobot's knee, polishing off the last of the crackers.

"Maybe. Today could have ended a lot worse than it did. We got off lucky," Bee trailed, highlights from today flashing across his processor like vicious backlash. Like he needed enlightening. They'd had enough close encounters to need constant reflections.

"Well we wont always be lucky," Sam said firmly, settling himself against the warmth of Bee's armored thigh.

"Living out here, we can't rely on luck."

Sam paused momentarily to study the burst of colors splayed across the sky as the sun began its descent behind the impressive outline of the Sierras. Exhaling a sigh he muttered quietly, eyes somberly reflecting the sunset. The scout almost missed what passed from his charges lips.

"We can't rely on anybody."

The setting sun, Bee noticed absently, accentuated the gold flecks of Sam's dark hazel eyes giving his gaunt, withdrawn face a look of bright, unmarred innocence. A look he hadn't seen since before Mission City. The shadows of warfare and being forced to grow up harboring world altering responsibilities had veiled those gilded flecks; had sapped the brightness right out of those laughing eyes and filled them with an imperishable determination to make things _right_ again. Bee had missed those cherished gold flecks.

"Only each other," Bee finished firmly, cupping an enormous hand around Sam's back and gently lifting him to his lap so they could watch the sunset together.

Sam smiled and the shining flecks of his eyes beamed.

"Yeah…"

Darkness and unvisited memories gently befell them at last but not before the sun winked a last promise of a new tomorrow and the hope of a remembered yesterday.

* * *

To be continued...

Again, remember, part one of twoooo. I'll try and get it up as soon as I possibly can.

And last but certainly not least. I'd like to give a big thanks to all my reviewers! Huzzah! You guys most totally ROCK! I honestly wasn't expecting to pique so many interests. I'm just ecstatic with all of you who favorited/alerted/reviewed! Thank you so much! :D

So while chewing on this teaser of a chapter, please review! They make my day :)


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